


The Ducks in St James' Park

by tinylilremus



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ducks, Fluff, M/M, Other, hand-holding, just some soft lovely vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 20:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19857850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinylilremus/pseuds/tinylilremus
Summary: There’s nothing that different about the birds today. They carry on with their business, as usual, scrambling over each other for morsels thrown by the park visitors, or else paddling as fast as possible away from the banks of the lake when a particularly boisterous child makes a game of chasing them – nothing out of the ordinary.No, his staring at the dear creatures has everything to do with the long, slender fingers on the bench between them, mere inches away from his own, and his desperate desire to reach out and bridge the distance.Aziraphale tries to work up the nerve to hold hands with Crowley.





	The Ducks in St James' Park

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just... lov them so much.

In all the hundreds of times he’s sat with Crowley in St James’ Park, Aziraphale has never stared at the ducks in the lake as intently as he is now.

There’s nothing that different about the birds today. They carry on with their business, as usual, scrambling over each other for morsels thrown by the park visitors, or else paddling as fast as possible away from the banks of the lake when a particularly boisterous child makes a game of chasing them – nothing out of the ordinary.

No, his staring at the dear creatures has everything to do with the long, slender fingers on the bench between them, mere inches away from his own, and his desperate desire to reach out and bridge the distance.

They haven’t really spoken about what the next step between them is yet. Aziraphale knows or rather has known for some time, that Crowley loves him. It’s been radiating off of him for as long as he’s known him, and though Aziraphale initially thought that it was platonic affection, the past few centuries (and, in particular, the past few weeks) have shown him that it’s something else entirely.

He’s certainly not confused about his own feelings. He knows that he’s been in love for at least the past eighty years. And as he now knows that there’s no home for him where he’s from, there’s no doubt that the only home he wants now is one with the demon on the other end of the bench.

It should be so easy to summon up the nerve to take Crowley’s hand. After all, he’s faced down the powers of both heaven and hell. There shouldn’t be anything more fearsome than that. However, the fear that’s made him hide his feelings all these years, the fear that drove him to try to push Crowley away when he needed him the most, the fear that almost cost him everything, is still there at the back of his mind, lingering like an unwelcome house guest.

_How will this ever work, Aziraphale? You’re from completely different worlds. And even if recent events have served to bridge a few of those differences, there’s still every chance that things will go pear-shaped later. What if you fall out and you lose him for good? What if you end up hurting more than helping each other? What if –_

Aziraphale’s inner turmoil is abruptly interrupted by a brush against his pinky. Ripping his gaze away from the ducks for the first time in a good half hour with a speed that causes a slight twinge in his neck, he glances down and sees that Crowley’s hand has slid its way over to his side of the bench and is resting against Aziraphale’s expectantly.

He is reminded acutely of the moment he realised that his heart belonged to Crowley: the smell of smoke and fumes in the air, the heat of the fire against his skin, the coolness of Crowley’s fingers as he handed over Aziraphale’s precious books, and the strength of the love radiating off of him. It was overwhelming.

With courage he didn’t have a moment ago; Aziraphale lifts his pinky and places it gently over Crowley’s. Though at a glance it appears the demon’s gaze is firmly fixed on the lake in front of him, he sees the corners of Crowley’s mouth twitch up ever so slightly and it fills Aziraphale with warmth and affection unlike any he’s ever experienced.

It’s all the encouragement he needs.

Without a second thought, he threads his fingers through Crowley’s, marvelling at how beautifully they seem to fit between his, and Crowley gives out a soft little gasp. Suddenly shy to meet the demon’s gaze, he eventually forces his eyes up and notices that Crowley is looking at him. A tear is making its way down his cheek.

“Oh no, Crowley, are you crying?” Aziraphale’s voice is soft, reverent, as he reaches out to gently wipe the drop away with the thumb of his free hand.

“Course not,” says Crowley, frowning behind his sunglasses. “Clearly it’s raining.”

Aziraphale is about to retort, but when he glances up, the skies (that he could swear were clear moments before) are filling with dark, ominous clouds. When he looks back at Crowley, he’s laughing.

“You’re absolutely impossible, you know that?” says Aziraphale fondly, wondering how he went through most of six thousand years not realising that this is all he’s ever wanted. A low rumble sounds in the distance and as the first droplets hit his face, Aziraphale frowns. “Oh dear, but this is a new coat.”

“You worry far too much,” says Crowley with a smirk, reaching behind Azirphale’s ear and coming away with, of all things, a large black umbrella.

Aziraphale laughs.

“And now I suppose you’re going to tell me that was behind my ear the entire time?”

“I suppose so.” Crowley is still smirking as he lifts Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and presses a small kiss to his knuckles. “Must be magic.”

Aziraphale nudges Crowley’s knee gently with his own by way of reprimand before sliding closer to him. His stomach plummets briefly when Crowley disentangles his hand, but when he realises it’s only so Crowley can slide his arm around his shoulders, all is right again.

With the park emptying as the visitors run for cover from the freak rainstorm, Aziraphale and Crowley now watch the ducks on the lake together from beneath the safety of Crowley’s umbrella.


End file.
